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All gifts would be made of the cheapest possible materials available in China or maybe Malaysia by vast armies of workers making a dollar a day.

Stockings are filled with cheap toys that break as soon as the kids take them out and candy in odd colors flavored red, green, and white – whatever those are.

Clothes are produced in just one design and only 4 color choices.

Sizes and cut of the clothes are strange – certainly not what the buying public is used to – and don’t fit any normal humans.

Defects are not weeded out before shipment to the stores, so you never know if you have zippers with pulls, buttons that have matching buttonholes, or linings that your arms can fit through.

The stores only receive one shipment of these seasonal items and they arrive 6 months ahead of the holiday.

The number of ugly and useless items is far greater than any possible good deals, but the good deals are the only ones advertised.

You spend twelve hours standing in line for one of the advertised computers only to have some stocker toss them over your head and into the crowd at the designated sale hour. The only customers to get these items are the ones who just walked into the area.

When you try to return the gifts that don’t fit more than a day after Christmas and you don’t have your receipt, the price has been cut by 75%.

You can’t exchange it for something that does fit or that you will use because the store is already sold out and will not be getting any more.

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I went grocery shopping recently while not being altogether sure that course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented “you’re definitely going to $h!t yourself” chili. Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat it, the next day both of your butt cheeks WILL fall off.

Here’s the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two cups of coffee (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened. No “Watson’s Movement 2.” Despite habanera peppers swimming their way through my intestinal tract, I was unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to by my next door neighbors as “thunder and lightning.”

Knowing that a time of reckoning HAD to come, yet not sure of just when, I bravely set off for the market, a local Wal-Mart grocery store that I often haunt in search of tasty tidbits.

Upon entering the store at first all seemed normal. I selected a cart and began pushing it about dropping items in for purchase. It wasn’t until I was at the opposite end of the store from the restrooms that the pain hit me.

Oh, don’t look at me like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m referring to that “Uh oh, gotta go” pain that always seems to hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different.

The habaneras in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt. In a mad rush for freedom they bullied their way through the small intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I could take one step in the direction of the restrooms which would bring sweet relief, it happened: The peppers fired a warning shot.

There I stood, alone in the spice and baking aisle, suddenly enveloped in a noxious cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me. Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my body and I began to move up the aisle and out of it just as an elderly woman turned into it.

I don’t know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate. Have you ever been torn in two different directions emotionally? Here’s what I mean, and I’m sure some of you at least will be able to relate.

I could’ve warned that poor woman but didn’t. I simply watched as she walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so terrible that all she could do before gathering her senses and running was to stand there blinking and waving her arms about her head as though trying to ward off angry be es. This, of course, made me feel terrible but then made me laugh. …….BIG mistake!!!!!

Here’s the thing. When you laugh, it’s hard to keep things “clamped down,” if you know what I mean. With each new guffaw an explosive issue burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told a few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the store and firing off a shotgun.

Suddenly things were no longer funny. “It” was coming and I raced off through the store towards the restrooms, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I’d make it before the grand mal assplosion took place.

Luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time I got to the john and began the inevitable “Oh my God,” floating above the toilet seat because my ass is burning SO BAD, purging. One poor fellow walked in while I was in the middle of what is the true meaning of “Shock and Awe.” He made a gagging sound and disgustedly said, “Sonofabitch!” then quickly left.

Once finished I left the restroom I reacquired my partially filled cart intending to carry on with my shopping when a store employee approached me and said, “Sir, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears some prankster set off a stink bomb in the store. The manager is going to run the vent fans on high for a minute or two which ought to take care of the problem.”

That, of course, set me off again causing residual gases to escape me. The employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose, and pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, “IT’S YOU!” then ran off, returning moments later with the manager. I was unceremoniously escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.

Home again without having shopped, I realized that there was nothing to eat but leftover chili so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to shop at Albertson’s. I can’t say anymore about that because we are in court over the whole matter. They claim they’re going to have to repaint the store.

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The world’s largest retail chain is teaming up with E&J Gallo Winery of Modesto, California to produce the spirits at an affordable price; in the $6-8 range. While wine connoisseurs may not be inclined to throw a bottle of Wal-Mart brand wine into their shopping carts, there is a market for cheap wine, said Kathy Micken, Professor of Marketing at Roger Williams University in Bristol, Rhode Island, “There is wine in a box that people are willing to buy,” she said. “The right name is important”